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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422193">nearly midnight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanfictioningFangirl/pseuds/FanfictioningFangirl'>FanfictioningFangirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dancing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Michelle would call it cringey, New Year's Eve, Peter would call it romantic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:16:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanfictioningFangirl/pseuds/FanfictioningFangirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're being cringey," she mumbles. "Promise me we won't be cringey next year." It's ten minutes to midnight and Peter and Michelle are dancing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Jones/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>nearly midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michelle doesn't hear him at first; she's reading Melinda Gates' <em>The Power of Lift</em> under the dim light of the front door when, suddenly, the door slams shut next to her making her look up with a start. Peter's standing right there, his eyes on her as he winces at the noise and, though they've been dating for months now, her heart skips a beat at the sight.</p><p>"Glad you managed to escape," Michelle says, putting her book down.</p><p>Peter rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, grinning at her. "Don't think I'd have survived much longer," he admits.</p><p>The music is softer with the door closed. Michelle can barely hear Señorita playing for what feels like the hundredth time. Though she can still hear Flash singing into a mic, and Michelle cringes internally at the sound.</p><p>Peter's sat down next to her, knees bumping into Michelle's and his warm hands finding hers at once.</p><p>"You're freezing," he whispers, and he's close enough that she can feel his breath against her ear.</p><p>It's stupid. <em>She's</em> being stupid. They've kissed more time than she can count and Peter's almost always sitting this close to her, his breath tickling her skin, his lips on her cheek — Michelle shivers at the thought and Peter, taking that as an acknowledgement that she is freezing, encases her palm in his and gently begins to rub some warmth into her hand.</p><p>"It's cold outside," she says, rolling her eyes. "It's normal to feel cold."</p><p>But he doesn't stop rubbing her hand and his eyes, boring into hers, don't leave Michelle either.</p><p>"You know," she says, turning away from Peter so that her lungs can learn to fucking breathe again. "In Spain you're supposed to eat twelve grapes in the last twelve seconds of the year?"</p><p>"How are you supposed to kiss someone at midnight with all those grapes in your mouth?" He blinks at her innocently. Like he genuinely wants to know. Like he doesn't enjoy watching her melt.</p><p>Michelle elbows him in the ribs. Rolls her eyes. Pretends like she doesn't want to grab his collar and kiss him till the world ends. Or, till next year at the very least.</p><p>"You're supposed to focus on eating the grapes."</p><p>"Sounds stressful."</p><p>"It's for good luck."</p><p>"Assuming you don't choke on the grapes."</p><p>She smiles at that. "Yeah," Michelle says. "That."</p><p>He's taken her other hand now, gently rubbing it between his palms. Inside the house, they've switched from Señorita to Billie Eilish and Michelle wonders if they're just going through the top ten songs of the past year on repeat. She's almost certain she can predict the rest of Flash's playlist.</p><p>"In Japan," she says, turning back to Peter, "the countdown starts from 108 instead of twelve. So that's 108 times they ring their bell."</p><p>"Sounds deafening."</p><p>He stops rubbing her slightly warmer hand and carefully entwines their fingers, looking far too proud of himself as he does it. Dork, Michelle thinks, she's dating a dork and he's too damn good for her.</p><p>"In Denmark," he says, "you're supposed to throw plates at people's doors."</p><p>"It's only at your friend's door, loser."</p><p>"Right. Still sounds fun. Though May would kill me if I tried."</p><p>They fall silent for a moment, Peter's head on her shoulder and her head on top of his. This is familiar. The silence. The warmth. The being with Peter in general. She loves it when they don't need to fill up the quiet with words; when his hand in hers is enough to make her feel at home.</p><p>A small part of her knows that they might not last forever. That they're headed to college in two years and who knows what time will take them at that. But she's with Peter now, and sometimes, now is good enough.</p><p>The song changes again, and Michelle cocks her head to the side, trying to catch the lyrics.</p><p>"Imagine," Peter says at once. "Betty said she'd play Imagine last."</p><p>"Five dollars they've started too early," she says.</p><p>Peter makes a face at her. "Five dollars they've started too late."</p><p>She rolls her eyes at him, but Peter's already pulled away from her. He stands up, holding his hand out for her.</p><p>"Wanna dance till we figure out?"</p><p>And she raises an eyebrow at him because there's nothing that could convince Michelle to go back inside. Not when the only person who really matters is already with her. Outside.</p><p>"Where?" she asks. "When?"</p><p>"Here," Peter says. "Now. Just the two of us. To celebrate the end of the year or whatever."</p><p>She almost says no. Almost. But it's Peter and, she's not particularly good at saying no to him. So Michelle sighs and takes his hand, and rolls her eyes (again) when Peter grins at her.</p><p>She doesn't know what she's doing. They shuffle around awkwardly for a moment, Peter's hand on the small of her back, hers on his shoulders. Then they're swaying back and forth, to the music. The way her parents do on Christmas morning. The way their classmates dance towards the end of homecoming.</p><p>And, all of a sudden it's too much for her. Michelle groans softly, burying her head in Peter's shoulder.</p><p>"We're being cringey," she mumbles. "Promise me we won't be cringey next year."</p><p>"I'll try," Peter says. "Maybe."</p><p>But they continue to sway to music Michelle can barely hear and, slowly, it starts to feel okay. It's cold around them, but Peter's warm and his hands feel safe and, for a moment, she feels like she could do this forever. Like it isn't all that bad.</p><p>Then the music stops abruptly. Someone calls out saying they're too early. Someone else says they're late. Peter chuckles against her because it feels like their bet could go either way.</p><p>Then Betty's voice cuts through the rest, declaring that it's time and, before Michelle knows it, they're counting down.</p><p>
  <em>Ten.</em>
</p><p>Peter's still swaying; They're moving to music that isn't even playing.</p><p>
  <em>Nine.</em>
</p><p>"Michelle?" he says softly.</p><p>
  <em>Eight.</em>
</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Remember how I said I wasn't going to be cringey?"</p><p>She steps back and narrows her eyes. "Yeah?"</p><p>
  <em>Five.</em>
</p><p>"Well," Peter says, and he cups her chin, tracing his thumb over her skin. "I'm going to be cringey."</p><p>
  <em>Three.</em>
</p><p>She rolls her eyes at him, and, because she's wanted to kiss him all evening, says: "Me too."</p><p>
  <em>Two.</em>
</p><p>His gaze flickers to her lips, Michelle's heart hammers against her chest.</p><p>
  <em>One.</em>
</p><p>And then, they meet each other halfway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this for the new year in response to a request on my <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fanfictioningfangirl">Tumblr</a> back when I hadn't yet heard of the coronavirus and my year was destined to be full of the usual fun. I might make this a three-part series, featuring the virus just because it's probably fucking with Spideychelle just as much as it is with you and me.</p><p>The last few months have been borderline hell-ish, but I'm trying to get back on track and find the motivation to get out of bed so, you know, if you want to help out with the motivating feel free to request fics in any of my fandoms!</p><p>As always, thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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